The Affairs of UNCLE
by Black Canary719
Summary: Short stories about UNCLE's two best agents, Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin.
1. The Heat of the Moment Affair

**So I recently started watching the Man from UNCLE, and I really love it. This is a bunch of short, unconnected stories about Napoleon and Illya (as well as the other characters). I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I do writing them.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Man from U.N.C.L.E.**

 **The Heat of the Moment Affair**

"His alibi is a good one." Illya said, setting the file on their suspect down on the table. "We interviewed guests at the party he claimed to be at, and we've got no less than a dozen people who place him there at the time of the murder."

Mr. Waverly sighed and turned to look at his two agents. Illya was sitting at the table, the suspect file in front of him, while Napoleon was standing behind him, watching Mr. Waverly. "So are you saying you believe we are following the wrong suspect, Mr. Kuryakin?" Mr. Waverly asked Illya.

Illya gave a brief nod. "Yes, sir. Considering the evidence, it seems impossible that he could have murdered the ambassador."

The crime in question was the murder of an ambassador from France who had been murdered in his office not an hour before he was set to meet with UNCLE and share with them valuable information about THRUSH that the French government had acquired. In addition to the obvious tragedy of the man's death, he had been the only one who knew the information he had been planning the share, meaning that potentially valuable intelligence could be lost forever. Napoleon and Illya had been assigned to find the man responsible for the murder, and if possible recover any information that they ambassador might have hidden before his death. So far, the investigation had not been a fruitful one.

"Very well." Mr. Waverly said. "Then I suggest you go find a new suspect and continue your investigation. You're dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." Illya said, standing up. He left Mr. Waverly's office, and Napoleon followed him. "You're being very quiet." Illya observed as they walked down the hall, back towards their own office.

"It doesn't seem right to me, Illya." Napoleon said.

"I told you, he has an alibi. He couldn't have killed the ambassador."

"The man is a known THRUSH agent." Napoleon insisted.

"Yes, he is." Illya agreed. "But he is not responsible for this crime. We have the wrong man. I am certain of it. We have to keep looking." As he spoke, he pulled at the collar of his shirt with discomfort. Napoleon noticed.

"Are you alright?"

"It is far too hot in here." Illya muttered. "Just like everywhere else in this city right now."

Napoleon privately had to agree on this point. It was the middle of summer, and New York City was experiencing a record-breaking heatwave. Headquarters was generally well air-conditioned, but the heat seemed to be seeping through the walls this time. Fans had been set up everywhere, and although that helped, it was still much hotter in the building than anyone wanted. Napoleon was beginning to notice that it was harder on his partner than on most, however. The same thing that allowed Illya to easily get through the winters was now turning on him; he was used to much colder temperatures. It may be hotter than Napoleon was used to, but it was at least three times hotter than what Illya was accustomed to.

"Maybe you should try dressing in lighter clothes." Napoleon suggested, referring to the fact that despite the heat, Illya was dressed in the same manner he always was.

"I will be fine." Illya replied, though he looked agitated. Napoleon knew that it bothered him. He had hoped that their next affair would get them out of New York for a while, but instead they had been assigned the ambassador's murder, trapping them in the city indefinitely. They reached their office and went inside.

"Ok." Napoleon said, sitting down on his desk, "What do you suggest we do now? Because the way I see it, we're at a dead end."

Illya sat down at his own desk. He thought for a moment, and then asked, "Who was the one who found the body again?"

Napoleon reached across his desk and picked up the file on the case. He opened it, rifled through the papers for a moment, and then said, "His secretary. She walked into his office and found him dead at his desk. She said that she had been outside for over three hours, and no one had been in or out."

"Maybe we should go talk to her ourselves." Illya suggested.

"We could do that." Napoleon agreed. "Though I'm not sure it will do any good in the long run. Assuming for a moment that she was telling the truth about no one coming in or out, the real question is how the murderer managed to kill him in the first place."

"Da." Illya said, nodding. "If we can narrow down the method used, it might help us narrow down the list of suspects."

"Some kind of gas?" Napoleon suggested, but Illya shook his head.

"The room was not air-tight. Somebody would have noticed. The body is still being examined by medical, but until I hear otherwise I would think some kind of poison would be most likely."

"Some kind of injected poison?" Napoleon asked.

"Perhaps, but again, that would require somebody getting into the room."

"Right." Napoleon muttered, setting down the file and leaning back in his chair. "Which brings us back to square one."

They were both silent for a minute or so, both lost in their own thoughts. That silence was broken by Illya letting out a groan and laying his head down on the desk. "Is there no way to lower the temperature in here?"

"You could undress." Napoleon said, grinning. "I'm sure none of the female agents would mind."

Illya raised his head and gave him an extremely annoyed look. "You know, your judgement of when to tell a joke and when to be serious is very lacking."

"I apologize." Napoleon told him, smirking. "Though I was only half joking. They probably wouldn't complain. Most of them find you very attractive." He smiled lessened somewhat. "Although Mr. Waverly probably wouldn't be thrilled..."

Illya sat up. "I think I'll keep my clothes on, thank you, Napoleon." He said. He sighed. "At the very least, it is better here than in my apartment. I had the windows wide open last night, trying to coax in a breeze that never made an appearance."

Napoleon suddenly sat straight as he thought about what Illya had just said. "That's it!" He said. "It's been hot! The ambassador probably had the same idea you did, and had the windows in his office open..."

"...allowing an assassin the perfect way inside." Illya finished for him, understanding. "Yes, that's good. Someone could have come through the window, or shot poison darts from the neighboring building." He stood up, as did Napoleon. "We should go to medical first, see what they've found while examining the body. Then we'll go to the ambassador's office and examine the crime scene again." He wiped the sweat of his brow with his hand as he spoke.

"You're not going to pass out on me on the way over, are you?" Napoleon asked somewhat worriedly as he observed his Russian partner.

Illya shook his head. "I am fine." He declared, almost defiantly. "Come on." He left the office, and Napoleon followed him.

As they walked through headquarters, Napoleon suddenly stopped to look in the doorway of one of the offices for Section IV agents. Illya realized that he was no longer with him and backtracked several steps, a look a visual annoyance on his face. "What is it now?" He asked.

"Look." Napoleon said, pointing. Illya looked inside the office. What seemed to be the entirety of Section IV was crowded around one desk, where a few of the agents appeared to have smuggled in a large amount of ice cream and were passing it out to people.

"That must be against regulation." Illya said, crossing his arms. "I doubt Mr. Waverly knows about this."

"Forget regulation, it's over a hundred degrees outside." Napoleon dismissed. "They deserve it. Actually," He glanced at Illya, "You could use some of that. We both could."

"I do not want any ice cream." Illya said, but Napoleon knew his well enough to tell that inside he secretly thought Napoleon was right. "Besides, they seem to be very possessive of it. They are dividing it amongst their coworkers. I doubt there is any for us."

"Oh, I don't know." Napoleon said thoughtfully. "The one who is passing it out is the nice girl who tried to get you to go to dinner with her last week. I bet she would give you a bowl in exchange for a kiss."

Illya rolled his eyes. "Napoleon, if you think it is so important to get ice cream, then why don't you kiss her?"

Despite the blatant bite of sarcasm in his voice, Napoleon nodded seriously. "Very well then. I will." Before Illya could argue, he had strode across the room and over to the agent who was handing out ice cream. He said something to her, nodding briefly in Illya's direction, and then gave her a kiss. He returned a few moments later a placed a small bowl of vanilla ice cream into Illya's hands. "There you go." He said happily. "I told you she would give us ice cream."

"There are two of us." Illya said. "I count only one bowl of ice cream."

"I have never doubted your ability to count, Illya. Please do not doubt mine." He winked and then started walking back over to the table.

Illya rolled his eyes again and put a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. He had to admit, it was probably going to help. Not that he would tell Napoleon that.

 **I don't know how many of these I will do in total, but there are a lot more to come. Hopefully I will get the next one up soon. Please review!**


	2. The Late Brake Affair

**I'm glad that you guys seem to like this so far! Thanks to everyone for all of the feedback.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Man from UNCLE.**

 **The Late Brake Affair**

His taste left something to be desired yet he seemed to have a way with people, Napoleon decided, as he watched their target in the car ahead and to the right of them. His suit was awful, but he seemed to be keeping his three passengers enthralled with whatever he was saying. So enthralled, in fact, that none of them had even looked at the movie for nearly half an hour.

The target was a suspected THRUSH agent. Their instructions were to follow him until they learned something about what he was doing, and then bring him in. They had followed him to a drive-in movie, where three new people had gotten into his car. They had been there for over an hour, waiting for something to happen. Illya was in the driver's seat, and Napoleon sat beside him as they pretended to watch the movie but really kept their sights on the agent and his car.

"What do you suppose they are talking about?" Illya asked, not removing his eyes from the target.

"I don't know." Napoleon replied. "But whatever it is, it appears to be interesting. They're missing the movie."

"They're not missing much." Illya dismissed. "It is a terrible movie."

Napoleon looked at him in surprise. "You've been watching the movie?" He asked. "I thought we'd been watching Mr. Harper for the past hour."

"I multitask." Illya replied.

"So what's it about?" Napoleon asked curiously.

"It is a ridiculous drama about a man who has quit his job and moved his family so that he can fulfill his life-long dream of owning a farm." Illya said with distaste. "He now has a farm, but he cannot get anything to grow."

"Why won't anything grow?"

Illya shrugged. "My guess is that the land is not fertile enough." He said. "But to be honest, I do not care."

Napoleon was about to make a comment about what a downer he must be on movie dates when something caught his attention. Their target, Will Harper, had started his car and was pulling out of his parking spot. "Illya." Napoleon said.

"I see them." Illya replied as he started up their car and started backing out.

"All of his guests are still in the car." Napoleon said, craning his neck to get a look at Harper's car as Illya maneuvered through the rows of cars to catch up with him. "Do you think they're THRUSH agents too?"

"It's possible." Illya replied. "Seeing as they met here, haven't paid any attention to the movie and are now leaving early, it certainly looks like something suspicious is going on. They're involved somehow."

Harper's car was straight ahead now, but still a ways off as it drove for the exit. He was going faster than generally allowed in one of these lots, and Illya sped up to reach him. Just as they were approaching them, however, Harper's car suddenly came to an abrupt stop. "Illya, brake!" Napoleon cried. Illya slammed on the breaks, but a moment too late. Their car hit the back of Harper's car with considerable force.

The impact sent both UNCLE agents falling forward. Illya caught himself on the steering wheel, while Napoleon did the same on the dashboard. He looked at Illya, and after observing that he seemed to be ok, said, "You call that braking?"

"I'm sorry." Illya said somewhat breathlessly, apparently recovering from the shock of the sudden accident. "He surprised me."

"I thought you were supposed to have quick reflexes." Napoleon said accusingly.

"I am not perfect." Illya mumbled. After a moment he asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Napoleon replied. "You?"

"Fine." Illya said. He looked out the window and saw Harper get out of the car. "He's coming over to us."

"Of course he is, you just rammed into the back of his car." Napoleon said.

" _We_ rammed into the back of his car."

"Oh no, this was all you, my friend. I told you to brake."

"Just act natural." Illya told him. "We may be able to salvage this yet." He rolled down the window as Harper approached them. "Good evening." He said, and Napoleon resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Where the hell did you learn to drive?" Harper demanded.

Napoleon leaned over and said, "You'll have to excuse me friend, he's from out of the country and-"

"I don't care where he's from!" Harper said. He opened the car door and roughly pulled Illya out of the car. Illya, wanting to try to salvage their cover, did not resist, but let Harper throw him against the side of the car. "I have an important schedule to keep, and it's going to be my head on a plate when I don't show up on time!"

"On time for what?" Illya asked. "Dinner with your wife? Or some sort of meeting, perhaps? Because I could try to-"

"Shut up!" Harper growled. "Russian, huh?" He asked, noting Illya's accent. "Well, let me show you how we in America deal with people like you." He pulled back his fist.

"Whoa, now!" Napoleon cried as he got out of the car, his hands in the air in surrender. He hurried around to them on the other side of the car. "Let's all calm down and discuss this little incident like rational adults."

"Stay out of this." Harper growled, his eyes not leaving Illya.

"I'm afraid I can't." Napoleon replied evenly. "That's my friend you're threatening."

"If I were you, I would worry less about your friend and worry more about getting yourself out of here." Harper told him.

"Well," Napoleon grabbed Harper's shoulder, pulled him away from Illya, and punched him in the face. "That's why you're not me, I guess."

Harper recovered and threw a punch at Napoleon, who ducked to avoid it. Harper lunged forward, and Napoleon caught his arms and held them back before punching him again. Harper took the opportunity of only being held by one hand to pull free and grab Napoleon instead. He pushed Napoleon backward with surprising strength and slammed him onto the hood of the car. Napoleon's head hit the windshield, cracking the glass. He groaned in pain as he felt blood start to run down the side of his head.

Harper was about to hit him again when he felt the barrel of a gun press against the back of his head. Illya had pulled out his gun and was standing behind him. "Stop, or I'll shoot." He warned. Slowly, Harper put his hands in the air. "UNCLE appreciates your cooperation." Illya told him, and then hit him hard in the back of the head with the non-lethal end of the gun. He fell to the ground, unconscious. Illya dragged him over to the other car, opened the door, and shoved him inside. He pointed his gun at the other three inhabitants of the car, all of whom looked very displeased as they started to realize what had happened. "Nobody leave." Illya said. "Or they will regret it very deeply." He slammed the door shut and ran over to help his partner.

"Are you ok?" He asked Napoleon urgently as he slowly sat up, his hand pressed to the side of his head. There was blood running through his fingers.

"I've had worse." Napoleon groaned. "Hurts like hell, though."

"You need medical attention." Illya said. He glanced around them, and realized that they had started to attract the attention of the movie's audience. He sighed audibly, defeated, and pulled his communicator out of his pocket. "This is Kuryakin." He said. "Mr. Solo and I need a medical team and a cleanup crew at our coordinates." He paused and looked around again at the growing fuss as people got out of their cars and started wandering over to see what had happened, and then at the four THRUSH agents in the other car. "A large cleanup crew." He amended. "We'll give our report when we get back to headquarters."

"Yes, Mr. Kuryakin." The voice on the other end of the communicator said.

Illya put it away and sat down next to Napoleon on the car hood with a groan. "Mr. Waverly is going to murder me." He said.

"Quite possibly." Napoleon agreed.

"I blew the entire mission." Illya continued.

"Not the entire mission." Napoleon assured him. "We did capture four THRUSH agents. Plus, the man was attacking us. You had no choice."

"What about the part where I caused it all to happen by hitting his car?" Illya asked sullenly.

Napoleon hesitated. "Well, that part was your fault, yeah." He said. "Next time, I'm driving."

"You'll get no argument from me." Illya replied.

 **Please review!**


	3. The World's Worst Dentist Affair

**I was on the fence about whether I should publish this one, but I decided to go for it. I hope you like it; I don't think it's my best work.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Man from U.N.C.L.E.**

 **The World's Worst Dentist Affair**

"So the pool hustler approached me," The THRUSH agent told his audience of other THRUSHies, "And he started talking about this big plan of his, like THRUSH has any interest in the ridiculous schemes he's likely to have come up with..."

"Excuse me," Napoleon interrupted from dentist's chair he was strapped to, "If you're going to kill us, could you just get on with it?"

"Yes." Illya agreed from the chair next to him, "I'd much prefer death to another one of your dreadful stories."

"You two shut up." The THRUSH agent called over to them. "My instructions were to hold you here until my boss arrives. Then it's his decision what happens to you."

"Perhaps you could just cut our ears off?" Napoleon suggested.

"I said shut up." The agent snarled at him. He picked up one of the dentistry tools sitting on the tray next to him. "Or I'll make it really painful for you to chew." He gave them one last threatening glance before returning to his storytelling to the other agents.

Napoleon, with some difficulty, turned his head to look at Illya. "As threats go, that's one of the more interesting ones I've received."

"It is rather fitting, though, considering the circumstances." Illya replied.

UNCLE had recently received discovered that THRUSH was running a dentist office as a cover for one of their operations. They needed to infiltrate and disable the operation, so Mr. Waverly had sent them in with Illya pretending to be a patient with a very sore tooth, and Napoleon being his concerned friend who brought him there.

Needless to say, this backfired on them rather badly.

So now they were both being held captive in a dentist office, guarded by several story-telling THRUSH agents while they waited for the head of this operation to show up. "You don't suppose that backup is coming anytime soon, do you?" Napoleon asked Illya.

"I doubt it." He replied. "We agreed with Mr. Waverly that having too many agents nearby could arouse the suspicions of THRUSH. We had no backup."

"I know, but we've been gone for hours. Surely by now Mr. Waverly has realized that something has gone wrong."

"Again, doubtful. If we had succeeded, dismantling the operation could have taken a long time as well. I'd estimate we have to wait several more hours before Mr. Waverly feels it is necessary to send backup after us."

"We'll most likely be dead by then." Napoleon muttered. "Always ruining my optimism with your logic, tovarisch."

"I am simply being realistic."

"We'll have to find our own way out of this." Napoleon sighed. He glanced around the white room. The agents were huddled in the corner, absorbed in their conversation. At least they had inattentive guards. Finally, something in their favor. "Any ideas?" He asked.

Illya was also observing the room carefully. "The bag sitting on the counter." He said, nodding his head to the countertop that lined the far wall. There was a large black bag resting on it.

"What about it?" Napoleon asked, confused.

"I remember it." Illya explained. "It was what made UNCLE suspicious of this office in the first place. Our story-telling friend here had it with his luggage when he arrived in New York. We had been tipped off that a THRUSH agent would be coming, so we were keeping a close eye out, and one of our scanners was tripped by what is inside."

"What's inside?"

"Besides the dentistry equipment? It is lined with explosives."

Napoleon whistled. "That is a suspicious thing for a dentist to have. Unless my understanding of having a tooth pulled is really, really wrong."

"Precisely." Illya said. "But now we might be able to use it to our advantage."

"How so?" Napoleon asked. "We can't even reach it."

Illya looked thoughtfully at the bag for a few moments, considering this. "I have a plan." He said finally. "But you're not going to like it."

Napoleon felt a feeling of dread ball up in his stomach. "What is it?" He asked.

Illya told him.

"You're crazy." Napoleon said immediately. "That's never going to work. Not to mention the amount of danger involved. It's reckless, Illya, and Mr. Waverly would never approve. Even if we somehow get out of this alive, he'll punish you harshly for it. You'll get assigned somewhere awful. Or maybe even sent back to Russia. You'll spend the rest of your life living with polar bears and magical flying reindeer."

"It's concerns me that you don't know the difference between Russia and the North Pole."

"I'm trying to make a point, Illya, we can't do this." Napoleon said, annoyance creeping into his voice.

"If you have a better plan, I would love to hear it." Illya said. Napoleon said nothing, but simply looked away. "That's what I thought. You're right, it's dangerous, but it's our only option."

After a moment, Napoleon sighed. "Fine." He said. "But I'm telling Mr. Waverly that it's all your fault."

"Deal." Illya craned his neck to look at their captors. "Hey!" He called to get their attention. "I value my life. I'll talk."

That did get their attention. The leader stood up and walked over to them. "What did you say?" He asked.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know." Illya said. "If you promise to let me live."

"Anything we want to know?" The agent repeated, narrowing his eyebrows suspiciously.

"Anything." Illya said. "I promise."

"Illya, don't be a fool." Napoleon said.

"Shut up, Solo." Illya snapped. "I want to get out of this alive." He returned his attention to the THRUSH agent. "Do we have a deal?"

A grim smile appeared on the agent's face. "Alright then, Russian." He said. "We've got a deal. You answer my questions, you get to leave unharmed. Let's start with something simple. Give me the locations of all the UNCLE bases across the world."

"Fine." Illya said. "You'll want to write this down." The agent waved to one of his companions, who quickly brought him a pen and pad of paper. "The locations are," Illya began, "The moon." The agent blinked in surprise, and Illya continued, "Mars, Venus, Jupiter..."

"You UNCLE trash!" The agent roared, throwing his pen and paper aside and slapping Illya hard across the face. A moment later, Illya looked up at him again and grinned mischievously. "You'll pay for that!"

"Forced to pay by someone like you? Doubtful." Illya replied. "The truth is, you can do whatever you like to us, but we'll never tell you anything. The same goes for all of our fellow agents. UNCLE will win, and THRUSH will fall."

"You bastard." The agent snarled. "I should teach you a lesson."

"Please." Illya said. "I'm eager to learn."

The agent reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the restraints that were holding both men from UNCLE. He unlocked Illya's restraints and pulled him up from his chair. "Stand over there." He instructed, pushing him across the room so he was standing over by where the bag containing the explosives was.

"What are you going to do?" Illya taunted. "Make me sit in the corner?"

"No." The agent replied. "This." He pulled out his gun and shot Illya in the shoulder.

"Illya!" Napoleon shouted, genuinely horrified as he watched his partner fall to the ground. However, he saw him pull the bag to the ground with him, and he pushed forward with the plan. "You complete idiots!" He cried, forcing himself to add a note of laughter in his voice. "I can't believe you fell for that! Only brainless THRUSHies like you could ever do something that stupid."

All of the THRUSH agents turned to him, guns out, meaning that all of them had their backs to Illya. "What are you talking about?" The leader hissed. "I just shot your friend."

"Yeah. You don't get it?" Napoleon asked. "That was his out. He knew we were going to be tortured for information, and he wanted to die before it happened. He's going to bleed out on the floor, and it's exactly what he wanted! And now, you completely incompetent morons, you're going to have to explain to your boss why you killed one of your extremely valuable hostages when you were told to keep them alive!" As he spoke, he watched Illya discretely opened the bag, ignoring the blood running down his arm.

"You better watch your mouth, or you'll get the same thing." The leader warned Napoleon.

"You don't learn, do you? I'd love it if you'd kill me right now. I'm not going to tell you anything, so you might as well. The only thing I'd regret is not being able to watch you and your pathetic group attempt to avoid the wrath of your superiors after you destroy the best lead on UNCLE that your organization is likely to get for a long time." He kept a careful eye on Illya's progress as he continued his rant.

"I'll just tell them I was provoked." The leader said.

"Yeah, I'm sure that one is going to go over real well." Napoleon said sarcastically. "Honestly, it's a miracle that you guys are even a threat to UNCLE at all. You're idiots, every single one of you. You know what? Idiot isn't even a strong enough word. In fact, by using it to describe you, I feel like I owe all of the idiots of the world an apology."

"Oh yeah?" The leader asked. "Because you're so clever? Your friend was the clever one, he thought of a way out. You're just here mouthing off. Unless you have a clever plan too."

"Oh, I do." Napoleon said, nodding.

"Really?" The leader asked skeptically. "And what is it?"

Napoleon grinned. "I call it, 'a tribute to Illya Kuryakin.'"

"Thank you, Napoleon. I'm touched."

The THRUSH agents all whirled around to see Illya on his feet, leaning against the counter for support. In his hand was the trigger for the explosive devices in the bag. "All of you put down your guns and step against the wall." He said. The leader hesitated, and Illya raised the trigger. "I think we all know that I'll do it without hesitation." He said. "You guys may be worthless the THRUSH, but I'm willing the bet some of the equipment and information stored in this office may not be quite so expendable. So unless you want me to set back your organization several years, you'll do as I tell you."

"Do what he says." The leader instructed the others. "Put your weapons on the floor." He did so as he spoke, and the others followed suit.

"Good." Illya said. "Now unlock him," He nodded to Napoleon, "And get against the wall with your associates."

The leader pulled out his keys again and unlocked Napoleon, who jumped up and ran over to Illya. "You said he was going to throw you against the wall, and you would play possum until they turned away." He said as he inspected the gunshot wound in Illya's shoulder.

"I underestimated his level of offense to my comments." Illya admitted, wincing as Napoleon pulled down his sleeve. "I should have given him more credit. But it did work."

"Yes, but only because you were lucky and he didn't kill you instantly."

"True." Illya agreed. "Next time, you can be the sacrifice." Napoleon gave him a dirty look.

"Well, on the bright side, it'll make a good story for me to spread around Headquarters." Napoleon said.

Illya frowned. "What will?"

"The time you got shot by the world's worst dentist." Napoleon told him. "Everyone will find that hilarious."

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